I wait for wisdom and the moment when my life is revealed to have ballast, and in the waiting I´m left believing, fifty-one days out of a hundred, that God exists – or at least that life exists on the level of mystery – but also just suspicious enough, just faithless enough that, in my suspicion and faithlessness, I´m bound to proceed through the remaining forty-nine on the awful, nearly unspeakable assumpting that there is no mystery at all, only molecules.

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So far I´ve read three novels by Steve Erickson: The sea came in by midmight, Rubicon Beach and Amnesiascope. In each of these books there´s an astonishing kind of time travel, space travel, obsessions for music, cinema, filmmakers and, well, love. Steve Erickson lives in Los Angeles and Amnesiascope is a crazy book and in the background it´s a portrait of a cryptic Los Angeles, too. It´s a fifty-one percent believe in mystery in the quotation!

I started with „The sea came in by midnight“ and then read „Rubicon Beach“. Hard to say which one I liked more, but it seems to be a good choice to me to start with „Rubicon Beach“. Actually it´s one of my plans for this year to read all of Erickson´s novels that I don´t know yet in chronological order and so I started with „Days between stations“ today, his very first novel. There are recurring motivs and ideas. Only two novels were translated in German, so Erickson seems to be an insider´s tip here.